Three of Wands

The Three of Wands is a card of expansion, possibility, and ambition. It’s a card that signifies that you are on the right path. Whenever I pull wands, the first thing that comes to mind is my creative work, specifically the generative process of writing. This is why, for the next few weeks, you’ll be getting wands-specific interviews with some of my favorite writers and artists in your inbox every week (in addition to our regularly scheduled programming)!

The Ace of Wands is the spark of inspiration, that eureka moment when you’re filled with idea and possibility. The Two of Wands is the outlining phase, an opportunity to give your idea a shape, to look at it from multiple angles and perspectives and work out the kinks. With the Three of Wands, you’ve started writing, you’re cooking with gas, and while this process is a little bit harder, it’s also where you start to see things paying off. The Three of Wands is a planning card, an opportunity to take stock and celebrate small wins, while remaining open to new ideas. This is a process card, where ideas become concrete, and words become action.

Recently, my friend, the incredible novelist, Edan Lepucki, asked me to write a paragraph about writing for her accountability group. Because I’m incapable of editing myself, I wrote a page and a half (sorry Edan), and I’m going to share it with you — it's major Three of Wands energy. And also, thank you Edan, for letting me reprint this here. Edan's newsletter is one of my faves (subscribe here). She writes about writing, parenting, and lots of other great stuff. You'll love it.

Edan and I met in dance class (she is a very good dancer, and she’s also super encouraging of me in spite of my many dance flaws, which I appreciate). This advice I wrote to her accountability group is about how to keep going when the spirit doesn’t move you, when you’d rather do anything but write (which, let’s be honest, is a lot of the time). And keep an eye out for my short form interviews with some of my favorite writers (including Edan) in the coming weeks! All of the questions I’ve asked pertain to the suit of wands, and the answers include really excellent tips and tricks about making art from some cool people!

Here's what I said to Edan's writing accountability group:

Some people love writing, and if that’s you… fuck you, and also congratulations and I’m jealous. From time to time, I enjoy the process of writing. Every once in awhile, I will get in a flow state and those are the moments I live for. But, I need to be really honest: those moments are few and far between. Far more often, writing feels like pulling teeth. Writing activates my demons and anxieties. Sitting down to write reminds me that I need to clean my house beginning with the baseboards, or I need to bake an entire coconut cake from scratch, and it’s about time I reorganized every cabinet, and I should start training to run a marathon, and I probably need a pap smear and a teeth cleaning…

I will find almost every excuse in the world — I will bend over backwards to do things I’ve put off for a thousand years – just so I will not have to suffer the indignity and accusation of a blank page. Some writers like writing — Stephen King writes like seven books a year, but I’m not Stephen King.

If you are Stephen King, lucky you. Also, thanks for reading, Stephen, I'm a big fan.

Each time I sit down to write it’s as if I’ve never written a single thing before. It’s enough to drive a person completely insane, and often that’s what writing feels like to me — insanity. Here’s the thing I do that works: I remind myself that it is my job to write, that all good writing starts as bad writing, and that the editing process is the opportunity to be critical of yourself. In the beginning, in the generative phase when it’s just you and your thoughts and anxieties and ideas and excuses, your job is simply to put words on paper. They don’t have to be good, in fact, more often than not, they will be bad. But the only way to end up with something good is to have something bad that you can fix.

I set a timer for an hour, and I’ll put my phone as far away from me in the room as possible (bonus points for putting it in another room altogether). I’ll turn off the internet and I’ll sit with the discomfort for a moment and then I will write. If I start to hear the demons in my head, I’ll talk to them: “Shh, demons,” I will whisper, “We’re not ready for you yet. There will be plenty of time for you to come in and fuck things up, but not yet.”

This next trick I learned from my best friend, Taylor Walle. Name your demon. Edward, Herbert, Brunhilda, Patricia, you choose the name, I can’t name your demon, only you can do that. Remind yourself that the demon, Patricia, thinks she’s saving you from future embarrassment and shame. Patricia wants you to never write a word, because if you never write anything, no one will have the opportunity to read it and laugh at you. Then again, if you listen to Patricia, you’ll never write anything. 

So you set the timer and sit down to write — when it dings in an hour, you get to stand up and give yourself a little treat. Until it dings, tell Patricia to pipe down. Tell her, thanks Patty, I appreciate your concerns but I do not share them. Right now, I’m just working things out. Patty, I promise to consult you eventually, but right now, I’m riffing/vibing/brainstorming. Don’t worry, Patty, it’s nothing serious. 

Remind yourself that Patty’s afraid, and it’s okay to be afraid, but it isn’t helpful. Naming your inner critic (and visualizing them— giving them a dumb little hat, for example) helps you externalize the fear and reminds you that your inner critic’s opinion is just one opinion, and not some kind of universal truth. Patty and her dumb hat can take several seats while you get down to the business of writing.

Okay, one other piece of advice I adapted from my brilliant poet friend, Tamara Barnett-Herrin: write yourself an incantation that you will say aloud each time you sit down to write. Put it on a piece of paper on your desk. Eventually you’ll memorize it. Light a candle as you say it. Words are magic, especially the words we whisper to ourselves. Fill in your own blanks:

Begin with addressing someone (the ghost of William Shakespeare, the spirit of the ocean, a god of your understanding, your higher power, the ancestors, Jesus, your dog)
As I light this candle, I ask _______________________
Help me to _______________________
Keep my door closed to _____________________
Let my words flow with ____________________
Keep out _______________________
Quiet the _____________________
Silence the _____________________
May I enter this space with _____________________
And leave it with a feeling of _____________________
FOR THE WORDS WILL NOT WRITE THEMSELVES.

Feel free to use its basic shape or give it your own spin, Dial up or down the witchy earnestness depending on your taste. Here’s mine (it helps!):

Spirit, Source, Mother Earth, Creative Muse and Inspiration,
As I light this candle, I ask that you protect this sacred space
Help me to channel inspiration and hush the unhelpful critic (Patty)
Keep my door closed to the distractions, disappointments and traumas of the world
Let my words flow with beauty, truth, and humor
Keep out procrastination of every variety
Quiet the naysayer within
Silence the emptiness, the vortex, and the Void
May I enter this space with curiosity
And leave it with a feeling of accomplishment, nourishment, and joy
For the words will not write themselves

Happy writing!